The Felix Chronicles: Freshmen by R.T. Lowe Read Free Book Online Page B

she cried out. “Please let me go! Please! I’ll give you anything, anything you want. I won’t tell anyone. I swear.”
    “I would love to let you go,” he said and he sounded sincere. “Honestly, I would. But whether you get to leave or not, is entirely up to you. It’s not my decision. You just have to do one thing.”
    “What?” she choked out, the slightest glimmer of hope stirring inside her chest.
    “You have to pass the test. Just like the boy who tore off my nose. If you pass, your life will be more amazing than you could possibly imagine. You, Angela, could be a Drestianite. And if you are, you’ll stand by his side as the revolution spreads across the world. A higher purpose could be awaiting you, my dear.”
    “Just let me go!” she pleaded. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
    “Angela, Angela, Angela. I’ll explain everything. I will. Trust me. Just as soon as you show me you’re special . That’s what this is all about. That’s the question. Are you special?”
    Special?
    The Faceman was talking crazy now. She wondered how much longer it would be until he took out his gun (the gun she knew he had). She bent her knees for a second to test her legs. They still felt a little rubbery, but they were getting stronger. Being on her feet was helping with the circulation. She wasn’t up for running a 10K, but she felt nimble enough to make a dash for it if she got the chance.
    The Faceman was still talking about something, but she didn’t catch it. He gave her a puzzled look, then used the knife to point at a half-submerged piece of kindling on the floor. It was between them (slightly closer to the Faceman) and a bit off to her left. It looked like it had once been a chair leg. Now it was splintered and decayed with amoeba-shaped patches of varnish still visible through the rot and dark grayish mold. “See that?” he asked.
    She did.
    “What? That?” She pointed at it, just to gauge the strength in her arm. It felt good, almost back to normal. Whatever he’d done to her—drugged her or chloroformed her or whatever—had worn off. Now she needed a plan. What would the heroines in her books do? What would Katniss do? she asked herself. Katniss would find a way out. She wouldn’t let the story end here. Katniss wouldn’t let herself die at the hands of some awful boy from another district. And neither would Angela. She tried to put herself in Katniss’s place— to channel her inner Katniss —and an idea formed in her head. Angela’s advantage on the Faceman was her quickness and agility. If she could distract him for just a second, she should be able to use those skills to get around him (or even dart between his legs) and escape out through the doorway to his back.
    “Yes,” the Faceman answered. “Make it move, and you pass the test—you get to live. Fail and… well, I think you get the idea.”
    “That’s it?” Like a plank walker, she took a cautious, fumbling step forward.
    “Stop!” he shouted.
    She froze, cowering, waiting for the blade to plunge deep into her stomach. She ducked her head. Her hands went to her elbows and cupped them. The seconds ticked by. Sweat rolled down her back. Nothing. No blade. She was still on her feet. Still alive.
    “Not like that, Angela. No. No. No.” He waggled his forefinger back and forth like he was admonishing a child. “Make it move with your mind .” He placed both index fingers on his temples, and Angela thought he looked like a one-horned devil with the long blade poking up above his head. “Without touching it,” he added.
    This was her chance.
    “With my mind?” She nodded at the wood scrap, hoping he would glance at it just long enough to get his attention off of her.
    His eyes flickered over to it.
    She rushed at the doorway in a sudden, explosive burst. She made it three steps and the Faceman’s eyes were still on the wood. Her hand skimmed across the floor as she dipped her shoulder low and propelled herself